Not To Blame
by Sectumsempress
Summary: Teresa Lisbon is ridden with guilt and blame. Can she learn to forgive herself or will the ghosts of her past consume her? How will a day with Patrick Jane help her to do so?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine and never will be.**

It was a beautiful, sunny Friday afternoon when Tommy Lisbon skipped merrily along the footpath lining the luscious green lawns of the houses on his street. It was his best friends birthday and they had a little party for him at Tommy's private school a few blocks away.

He still fizzing with pride and excitement from winning the Simon Say's competition. He couldn't wait to tell Teresa, his sister, who had left school early because of a toothache. His other two brothers were at the big school.

He knew Teresa would put on her adult face and tell him that Simon Say's is a babies game and then their mother would frown at her slightly before smiling at Tommy telling him how proud she was of him.

He reached the white gate of his house and pushed it open with his foot, holding his balloon and his plastic lolly bag with both tiny hands.  
He saw Teresa, her arms crossed still in her dark blue school skirt, stockings and blazer, waiting for him by the front door.

"Come with me," she ordered quietly turning into the house, her short ponytail swinging behind her.  
Tommy skipped behind her obediently, ready to play whatever game his big sister had planned and wanted to share his lollies with her –but not the lolly teeth – those were his favourite.

Together they walked past the large living room, his balloon dragging across the ceiling. He noticed the room to be full of strange grown-ups surrounding his father who was sitting on the couch with his head resting in his hands as consoling hands patted his back.

Tommy thought maybe his dad had gotten a migrane and would have called out to him to ask but Tommy didn't want to have to talk to the strange grown ups in the room.  
He hid behind Teresa shyly as they walked down the hallway to their bedrooms.  
He followed Teresa into his own room. He sat on his bed watching his ballon bobble around in the air.

Teresa shut the door and turned to him looking serious and adult-like. Mummy always said that Teresa acted too much like a grown up.  
"I have to tell you something that is going to make you feel very bad," she said. "So I think you should get into your pyjamas and get into bed and be ready for it so it wont hurt so much."

Tommy was curious but did not jump excitedly up and down shrieking 'What is it? What is it? Tell me now! Please?' like most boys in his class would because he was five and nothing bad ever happened to him.

He took off his blue blazer and hung up his tie just like his mother told him to do and got into his favourite red pyjamas with the trucks on them while Teresa filled up a hot water bottle. She also brought along a spoonful of honey, a childrens asprin and a glass of water in his favourite cup.

He liked playing doctors with Teresa and she liked it too because she could boss him around.  
When they would play, she would tuck him into his bed with bandages around his head and put vapour gel over his belly and took his temperature. It was like enjoying all the good parts of being sick without the actual sick feeling.

Teresa sat next to him on his bed tucking in the sides of his quilt just like his mother did before bed every night.  
" Do you have your teddy bear, Tommy?" she asked. He showed her his bear under his covers and she nodded.  
"Now I have to tell you something bad. Its going to give you a bad surprised feeling so be ready for it, okay? You can suck your thumb if you want."

Tommy opened his eyes and frowned at his sister. Because he did not suck his thumb anymore. Only when he tripped over his shoelaces and grazed his knee. And even then it was only the tip, hardly the whole thumb.  
Then Teresa said; "Mummy has died."

Tommy couldn't remember what happened next, or even how he felt on hearing the words.  
All he remembered was how Teresa tried to protect him from the 'bad, surprised feeling'.

He was a grown up himself, holding his newborn daughter, before it occurred to him with a jolt of surprise that Teresa had only been a little girl herself that day.  
He had phoned her to talk about it, to thank her, and the funny thing was that Teresa had an entirely different set of memories about when their mother died and didn't even remember putting Tommy to bed.

Of course, she had also claimed on occasion to have never recalled throwing a pair of nail scissors which got impaled in the back of Tommy's neck when they were teenagers. But still…

Tommy handed Teresa (who had arrived shortly after with balloons and flowers) the small bundle of baby and blankets.

"You're such a good big sister," he said to her as the baby dozed sleepily in her arms.  
"No, I'm not," she whispered quietly, more to herslef, not looking at him.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes.  
"What's her name?" Teresa asked nodding towards the sleeping baby.

"Catherine," Tommy said putting his hands in his pockets. "After mum. Catherine Teresa Lisbon."  
Lisbon felt her eyes sting at this and shame, torment and guilt wash through her body.  
"I wish Mum could be here to see her," Tommy said quietly.

He didn't know. He still didn't know. He would hate her if he knew.  
Lisbon quickly handed over the baby to her brother who took her, confused.

"She's beautiful, Tommy," she said hurriedly before the hysteria broke her voice. "I have to get back to work. Give Elizabeth my love."  
"Tere-" Tommy called after her as Lisbon dashed out of the room and ran to the elevator jabbing the button frantically as the doors opened.

It was mercifully empty and she slid into the corner before doing what she condemned sensible, grown up adults for doing.  
She cried.

**Should I finish? Please Review.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Hi everybody. Thankyou for your lovely reviews. I know that die-hard Mentalist fans will spot an error in this story but there is an explanation at the bottom, so I'll see you down there.**

It was an unusually blustery August day.  
Peter and Catherine Lisbon were driving in separate cars home from their hospital appointment. Normally, they would have gone out for coffee or tea and driven together but Peter had taken his daughter, Teresa to the dentist beforehand after collecting her from school.

The dentist had said that there was nothing wrong with Teresa's teeth. He didn't know what was causing that ache in her jaw. He'd sent Teresa to the waiting room and asked Peter quietly, "Could it be stress?"

Peter looked at his watch impatiently, desperate to get to the hospital. He didn't want to miss one second of the ultrasound and their appointment started five minutes ago.  
Stress? What did Teresa have to be stressed about? She was impossible. She probably just wanted to get out of school.

As they were driving home after the appointment, Teresa was tugging on her school tie complaining about having to stay in the hospital creche while Peter and Catherine did their ultrasound and found out they were having another healthy baby girl.

"But I'm too _old_ for the creche. It's just stupid crying toddlers."  
"Well, you should have stayed at school today, instead of making up a story about toothaches."  
"I didn't make it up."

The bizzare weather had turned oddly violent for this time of year. There was a low rumble of thunder. and it started to rain. Heavy drops splattered the windscreen like pebbles.  
Peter hoped that the weather would clear before Tommy had to walk home from school.  
He might get one of his elder sons to pick Tommy up, he thought as he turned on his windscreen wipers.

"Daddy, I didn't make it up."  
"Shh, Teresa," he said. "I'm trying to concentrate on the road."  
Peter hated driving in the rain, especially with his kids in the car. It made every turn, every curve look so much dangerous.

Teresa looked out the window and watched as the trees were swaying about as if they were performing some sort of ghostly dance. She copied them with her arms before becoming bored again and went back to sulking.  
They pulled into their estate and Peter saw Catherine's brakelights turn red and her indicator blink.

Catherine was driving her wildly impractical forthiest birthday present to herself. A little silver BMW.  
She drove it with the sunroof open and Elvis on full blast. She loved Elvis.  
She had promised to get a more practical, family car when the baby came. But for now, let her have her fun. She would big and fat and unable to do anything soon.

Peter drove up closer to his wifes car in the rain and knew that Catherine would be singing along lustily to Elvis.  
"That tree looks like its going to fall right over," said Teresa, her chin in her hand as she looked out of her window.  
Peter eyes flickered breifly to where his daughter was staring.

It was the liquidambar on the corner. Beautiful in the autumn. Tommy had broken his arm climbing it a year ago. It was rocking back and forth making a horrible creaking sound.

"It wont fall."

It fell.

It was so fast, and violent, and unexpected. Like a dear old grandmother suddenly punching you in the nose or as if some cruel god had done it on purpose. Picked up the tree and slammed it across the BMW in a fit of temper.

The noise was tremendous. An explosion of terrifying sound. Peters foot jammed on the brake making the car lurch to a standstill and his arms flew sideways protectively across Teresa's chest as if to save her from the tree.

Teresa made a noise between a gasp and a scream as the seatbelt threw her against her seat.  
And then there was a second of silence. Except for the rain and the thrum of the one o'clock talkback radio.

A massive tree trunk lay on the road in front of them. Catherine's little silver BMW looked like a squashed tin can.

A woman came running out from her house, the screen door slamming behind her. She stopped when she saw the tree, her hands pressed to her mouth in shock as she observed from her lawn.  
Teresa looked to her father for what to do.  
"Stay here," he said hoarsley to Teresa. Like she were able to move.

He opened the car door and ran.  
He slipped and fell on one knee stopped up and kept running, his arms flailing uselessly at the air, trying to pull back time to just two minutes.

Tommy never knew. Her older brothers knew everything and in their most deepest, most shameful part of their minds, they had blamed Teresa for Catherine's accident. If their dad hadn't had to take her to the dentist that morning, Catherine wouldn't have been pulling up at the corner at that time.  
Not that her brothers would ever admit to it. They loved their sister dearly. And they were young, way over that now.

But Teresa was smart enough to pick up on her brothers resentment. She was already a child who felt everything far too deeply. She'd seen her mother be killed in an accident and then her family fall apart.  
"Mum would still be alive if we had driven in the same car," she had thought to herself every day.  
As if to make up for the tragedy she had caused, she took it upon herself to look after Tommy. She owed it to her mother.

This didn't stop the dreaming though. The dreams continued. Not about her mother. Not about the car. Or that god awful sound of the tree smashing her mother and her unborn sister. She dreamed about Tommy.  
In her dreams, his cute, innocent five year old face was ugly with rage as he looked at her with pure hatrid.

"_You killed Mummy, Teresa!" he screamed. "It's all your fault."  
"Tommy," she said weakly trying to hug him. He backed away from her in disgust.  
"You killed her!" he screamed. "You killed them!"  
"I'm sorry, Tommy," she choked.  
"You killed her! I hate you! You killed my Mummy!"_

"No, no,no," Lisbon sobbed into her knees. "I'm so sorry, Tommy. I didn't mean to."  
"Lisbon?"  
_"Its all your fault!"_  
"I'm so sorry."  
"Lisbon, are you…are you okay?"  
_"You killed her! It's all your fault."_  
"No," she sobbed harder.  
_"You should have died. It's all your fault she's dead. I hate you!"_  
"NO!"

She breathed deeply as her brothers livid face and cutting words vanished. Lisbon looked up shakily from her crouch in the corner to see she was no longer alone in the elevator.

Patrick Jane was looking at her warily from the doors of the hospital elevator, his eyes confused and concerned.  
"Lisbon?"

* **Hello again*  
I know that Lisbon's mother was killed in a drink driving accident but I actually saw this happen this week (my first week as a full licensed driver too) and had to write about it.  
The person in the car was okay (phew) so a happier ending there.  
I called triple 0. It was the first time in by life I've ever called triple 0.  
I nearly called 911 like an American. I actually punched in the 9.  
There's proof I watch too much television. **

**:D **


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry, its taken so long to UD. I've been getting distracted by other stories. Damn those insomnia plot bunnies. **

"Where are _you_ going?"  
"To have a cup of tea with JFK on the moon," Lisbon said scathingly to the nosy consultant after telling Cho she was leaving early so he may as well go home.

It was a Sunday after all. Even murderers had taken the day off to enjoy the sunshine leaving the Serious Crimes Unit without work.  
Van Pelt and Rigsby hadn't even shown up. Lisbon tried not to think about what they might be up to and how many rules it would break.

"Go home Jane," she said before leaving, in quite a hurry, Jane noted. Going home was simply out of the question and he wasn't about to be left at the office by himself.

Luckily there was a nifty little device to remedy the situation: GPS tracking. Which was conveniently installed in all CBI vehicles.

He borrowed Van Pelt's computer getting her password correct on the first try (OREGANO) to ascertain Lisbon's destination.

It was most certainly not the moon. No, the hospital she seemed to be heading for was definitely Earth bound.

Of course it had to be _this_ hospital, Jane thought morosely as he turned into the parking lot. It had been nine years since he drove, well sped, into this very same parking lot but for a much more happier occasion.

He suddenly felt like he was about to fall head-first into all his memories. He deliberately resisted it, stepped back from the edge when he really should have let himself go. It would be far easier and less confusing if he could remember the happy times without the unbearable agony that followed.

Luckily before the image of crying babies and pink balloons and frantic dashes to the hospital could infiltrate his mind he focused on the people entering and exiting the hospital doors.

He saw a short woman that could be Lisbon but he was too far away to tell. But then the woman's straight backed, 'I'll take you on' posture that was so Lisbon, gave her away.

He waited in his car. He didn't really think it was wise for him to go into the hospital. Jane was certain he wouldn't have a complete breakdown by the administration desk but he didn't really _need_ to go in there. It wasn't like she'd gone into a burning building.

He could just sit here in his car and interrogate Lisbon when she came out to her car. He smiled in anticipation of her fury. She would wonder how the hell he figured out where she was and demand to know. And he would refuse to tell her until she told him why she was here.

Then suddenly a wave of concern washed over his amusement, extinguishing it.  
Why was Lisbon here?  
Maybe it was just a check up, he soothed himself. She was one of those organised, responsible types that would have check ups regularly. She was the check up type.

She was in a pretty good mood (for Lisbon anyway) when she left so maybe it was a good reason.  
Jane racked his brains for 'good' reasons to visit the hospital.

Could Lisbon be…pregnant?  
Jane toyed with the idea. That would be kind of cool…maybe.

Sure, no matter how relaxed he looked talking to children, afterwards he would drive home down that long winding ribbon of highway with the lush green hills and the flashes of turquoise sea and turn on to that empty stretch of road with an appropriate telegraph pole. One that was just begging for a memorial cross. And it took all over his self control not to drive at it really fast.

But still if it was one of the teams children he could learn to be happy around them and practice to not feel that feeling. He kind of had his fingers crossed for little Rigpeltlets but a mini Lisbon would do. Did Lisbon have a partner? How had he missed _that_? Was he losing his touch? This was exciting stuff.

He snapped out of it. That was one possibility of about one million. He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel waiting for her to come out and solve this mystery.  
Then he got concerned again.

What if Lisbon was sick?  
What if she had pneumonia or bronchitis or an ear infection? Still, there was no need for him to go in.

She didn't need his support over an ear infection.  
But what if it was worse than that?  
What is she was really sick?  
Like a brain tumour or something.

He decided the possibilities were too great and left the safety of his car.

Jane walked into the hospital and just kept focused on the generic cream walls as he walked through the lobby.

Not looking at the floor with the speckled green dot pattern that he still remembered from pacing for hours in this exact same room.  
Not checking to see if the same receptionist was still working here.  
Not averting his gaze to the maternity ward on the left.

Jane turned the corridor and jabbed the elevator button continuously as if it made it go faster. He knew everything would be fine as long as he quickly got out of this all too familiar floor.

Finally the doors opened and he was about to jump in as if his life dependant on it when he saw a small figure hunched over in the corner rocking back and forth moaning.

Jane's mind worked quickly and a thousand explanations sprouted in his head. Was this a psych ward escapee? Did this persons relative just die? A nurse that just got let off?

Then with a shock like a punch in the face he noticed how familiar the crouched person was.

"No, no, no," she sobbed into her knees. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I didn't mean to."  
"Lisbon?" Jane said confused.  
"I'm so sorry."

"Lisbon," Jane said at a loss as to what to do. "Are you…are you okay?  
"No," she sobbed harder. Jane got the feeling that wasn't her answering his question. She didn't even notice him here.

"NO!" she yelled as if in a nightmare her arms wrapped around her legs. Jane jumped and wondered whether a sedative was required for this sort of thing, looking around helplessly.

But Lisbon seemed to have calmed down, her tense posture relaxing and she had stopped moaning and sobbing at least.

She was still shaking and her breathing was deep. He then saw her look up and both mortification and confusion washed over her face.

"Lisbon?" he said uncertain and worried.  
"J-Jane?" she said mortified at her vulnerability, yet she could even think about standing up.  
"W-w-what are y-you doing h-here?" she said hating that stone that lodges itself in her throat when she cries.  
"Just picking up my prescription," he lied effortlessly. "Sleeping pills."

There was a prolonged silence. Jane was vaguely aware that he was standing in the way of the elevator doors preventing them from shutting.

"I'm sorry," Jane finally said.  
"Sorry for what?" Lisbon said her heart thumping. Surely, _Jane_ didn't know! He was good, but he wasn't that good.  
_Sorry for whatever has caused this much pain_, he wanted to say but his humourous lets-cheer-you- up mechanism kicked in.

"That you would stood up at your tea party," Jane said lightly. "I should have told you that JFK died a while back. I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

In spite of herself, Lisbon gave a little chuckle that turned into a sob and the taste of tears in her mouth felt so familiar and she begged herself: _Stop it! Please, I'm so sick, sick, sick of crying!_

Jane noticed her face grimace in sadness.  
"Lisbon, what's wrong?"  
She looked up at him.  
If there was anybody in the world that could understand this kind of guilt, it was Patrick Jane.

"Its my fault," she told him hoping she could cram her entire life story into those three sinful words.  
Suddenly, Jane felt guilty. He had just assumed that his boss was some sort of emotionless rock that had little or no life out of CBI. He hesitantly held his hand out to her.  
"Lets go for a walk."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everybody. I want to say a BIG thankyou to lovely reviewers: **_Lisbon94, Famous4it, JuliettVictor, dogeatdog, mentalist, Holz9364, Jisbon4ever and Chloe. __**  
**_**Also hugs to: **_Liery, 3R1N14S, RainbowsArePretty, Jceda27, Batgirl67 and Vadergirl2006 _**for Story Alert/Favourite Story subscriptions. (**I hope I didn't miss anyone and got all the spelling right**) **

**I apologise in advance for the length of this chapter, I know its quite long but I couldn't find a stopping point. There's a few references to my two-shot story: **_June 17__th___**but you probably don't need to read it to understand. Okay, see ya! **

"You're such a good big sister," Tommy had said.  
She wasn't. She wasn't at all.

They still cared about each other, her and her brothers. Of course they did. They'd never forget each others birthdays. In fact, there was a weird sort of silent competition going on to see who can give the best present each year as if they were always jostling for the role of most generous, thoughtful sibling.

However, she always felt unaccountably awkward. It felt like things weren't exactly right between herself and her brothers. Especially the older two.

At times there seemed to be a sort of stilted friendly politeness if they were good friends who didn't see each other so often any more.

Maybe if she'd been more vigilant? Perhaps it was her responsibility as the sister to keep them on track.  
But the only way she'd been able to get through those difficult years was by wrapping herself up like a package with tighter and tighter string. This made it difficult for her older brother, who became their guardian after their father died, to control her.

Her problem was rage. Even as a child, her rage had gotten her into awful trouble.  
It was permanently simmering, even when she wasn't aware of it.  
If she hurt herself unexpectedly or dropped a punnet of strawberries over the kitchen floor, it bubbled over like boiling milk.

The primeval scream of rage when she banged her forehead against an open cupboard door the other day when unpacking the dishwasher was astounding.  
She sat on the kitchen floor with her back against the fridge and sobbed for twenty minutes feeling sorry for herself. It was pretty embarrassing.

But not nearly as embarrassing as the situation she was in now. Lisbon did manage to control her tears and walked from the hospital with Jane, whose gaze, she noticed, never seemed to leave his shoes as he maneuvered the lobby with easy familiarity. He looked like a convict being brought in for questioning, keeping his head down to avoid the journalists. It was weird.

However they were now outside in the fresh air walking around the grounds of the hospital. Lisbon wasn't sure what to do or what to say. She had no idea how to explain her actions to him and just hoped that he could put it down to menstrual issues. Unlikely. He was Patrick _friggen_ Jane.

Jane finally broke the silence.  
"Are you sick, Lisbon?" he asked hoping his fears wouldn't be confirmed. She shook her head.  
Of course, he would think after that little display it could be nothing short of cancer or liver failure. Lisbon felt like such an over reactor.

"I'm here for my brother," Lisbon said not divulging too much information.  
Patrick's eyes widened and his chest tightened. Her brother. Apart from work, Lisbon's entire life was her brothers. They were her family. If something had happened to one of them, of course she would be devastated. He felt idiotic of not even considering that possibility.

"Nothings wrong with him," Lisbon said quickly as she saw the sudden sympathy and concern on Jane's face. "It's actually good news. Him and his fiancée just had a baby."  
Jane exhaled relieved then confused but didn't press the matter, she would tell him in her own time if she wished. Lisbon felt a surge of gratitude towards the man.

"I suppose I should get flowers for my sister-in-law to be," Lisbon said as they got near the hospital gift shop. "I mean she deserves them after going through _that_," she screwed up her nose as she said '_that'_ and waved her hand around as if to convey what childbirth would be like.  
"That's a nice idea," Jane said as they walked in, the bell on the door tinkling behind them.

The claustrophobic tiny shop was stuffed with merchandise like an overflowing antique store. There were barrels of _Get Well Soon_ teddies, piles of magazines and stacks of crossword puzzles, displays of flowers in varying shades and styles, soft children's toys stuffed in every crevice and heaps of helium filled balloons that had a variety of message, sunny happy words splashed across them.

An small elderly woman with wispy silver hair came out from behind a shelf laden with stuffed toy ducks, romper suits and pretty baby soaps wrapped up in ribbon.  
She had on enormous glasses that magnified her eyes greatly and had on spangled clothes and lots of chunky necklaces and rings. Lisbon thought she was kind of adorable.

"Can I help you my dears?" she said in a trembly but sweet voice. She felt Jane stiffen beside her.  
_How are you still alive?_ Jane thought to himself.  
The woman peered at Jane through her enormous specs.  
"Patrick? Patrick Jane? " she said analysing his face and then smiling widely. "It is you."  
Lisbon looked at them both. Did they _know_ each other?

"June 17th 2001….Fathers Day," the woman recited with precision. "Tulips, no….lilies and a stuffed toy lamb. I never forget a customer," she said wisely tapping her head making her bangles clunk nosily against each other. "And especially such a happy one too."  
Then she peered at Lisbon excitedly as if she had some sort of expectation and her face fell.  
"You're not Riley," the woman said disappointed as if she were informing Lisbon of her own identity.  
Who the hell was this _Riley_?

"How is she anyway?" the woman said turning back to Jane. "And little Emily, she must be going on nine yea-"  
"Actually Claudia," Jane said cutting her off but still smiling although there was something forced about it. Lisbon looked at him confused. "My friend, Teresa, wants to get some flowers for her sister in law."  
Claudia beamed at Jane. "Well, you know where they are, dear."

After much deliberation and suggestions from Claudia, Lisbon decided on an enormous arrangement of long stemmed red roses and baby's breath in a crystal vase. Lisbon loved roses and thought Elizabeth would too.  
She noticed Jane's quiet coldness as he stood silently by her as she paid for them but never commented on it. He was clearly deep in thought glaring at the beautiful roses with concentration as if the flowers were under interrogation.

He never got his wife roses. He knew she only liked them in garden. Roses from the florist had no scent and for some reason they always reminded Riley of serial killers…..  
Jane stopped himself. Thoughts like that were dangerous. Just thinking about her like that in a public place with such casual carelessness. No, those thoughts and memories were only to be opened at home.

They walked back to the hospital in silence. Lisbon wasn't sure whether Jane was supposed to leave or stay but he followed her none the less. They went back into the elevator to go up to the room where Elizabeth had been moved. This time the elevator was not empty.

There they were squashed into the back of the elevator with an excited family, their arms overflowing with flowers and balloons. Lisbon noticed Jane had his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach as if he was hugging himself close so all that joy couldn't hurt him.

This behaviour was weird but Lisbon wasn't about to mention it. It was only a matter of time before he would start asking questions about her little meltdown. And she would prefer it later rather than sooner.

The pediatrician came in to check up on baby Catherine.  
The man flipped her this way and that and held her in one palm with casual expertise like a basketballer and Tommy and Elizabeth blurted out in unison; "Careful!"  
The pediatrician chuckled and said; "Your daughter gets ten out of ten, an A plus!"

They all applauded at their daughter for her first ever good mark while he wrapped her up in her blanket, a neat packet of fish and chips and ceremoniously presented her to Elizabeth.

After his mother died, Tommy longed to gather everybody he loved and stow them safely under his bed with his favourite toys. Sometimes the stress would be so overwhelming, Teresa would have to bring him a paper bag to breathe into. His ever practical sister. His amazing sister.

How could she say she wasn't a good sister? Of course she was! Teresa was his support system throughout his entire life. The one thing that he could always trust and depend on. He called her to discuss everything. The dramas of college, after break ups and before terrifying dates, best way to get rid of red wine stains, if he should propose to Elizabeth, worrying about being a father….

When he would hear Teresa's voice on the phone it was just like each time he'd called home on that disastrous trip around Europe when he was nineteen and trying to kid himself that he had a different personality – an adventurous, extroverted sort of personality: the sort of person who loves exploring cathedrals and ruins all day on his own, talking to girls from Australia in youth hostels all night.

When really he was homesick and bored and couldn't understand any of the train timetables.  
The sound of Teresa's voice, decisive and clear in some strange phone box on the other side of world made Tommy's knees buckle with relief and he'd press his forehead against the glass and think "That's right I am a real person."  
The only good thing that resulted in that trip was meeting Libby. Elizabeth was shy and terribly homesick too from England.

Tommy hated his shyness and always longed to be more like Teresa as a child.

"_Oh, Tommy, he's okay, but he's a nothing sort of person."_

A nothing sort of person. The girl had said it with such casualness, without malice as if it was a fact and at that age, Tommy had felt cold with the official confirmation of what he'd always believed.

Yes, of course he was boring. Other peoples personalities were so substantial.  
However when he was eight, another girl, Morgan Jones, her name had been leaned over his desk and said: "You've got a face like a pig."

And that just confirmed something he'd always suspected: Teresa was wrong when she said that his nose was cute as a button. It wasn't a nose, it was a snout. It was bad enough worsening his insecurities after just losing his father as well.

Of course, being the fierce motherly protector Teresa had become, she retaliated to the offending remark that resulted in her suspension which caused grief to his older brother Jeremy and his partner Rebecca who became their guardians.

But that didn't matter. Teresa was his sister. The best most supportive sister that he could ever have hoped for. He didn't know anything in the world that could change his mind of that.  
He looked at his darling Libby and Catherine and wondering how on Earth he had managed to get so lucky.

He was still full of insecurities from his childhood when he went on his first date with Elizabeth in Europe (on the advice from Teresa, of course) and ever since they had been together he was convinced that one day she was going to wake up and think '_Hey, wait a second, how did I end up married to this boring boy with his nothing personality and pig like face?'_

But she never did.

Lisbon wondered whether Jane was going to follow her right into Tommy and Elizabeth's room. But he stayed outside the door gesturing that she should enter. She took a deep breath and walked in putting on a big smile.

"You're back!" Tommy exclaimed looking more like his five year old self than ever. Lisbon had to smile at her brother and placed the bouquet of roses in the crystal vase next to Elizabeth's bed.

"Thank you, Teresa," Elizabeth said brightly in her lovely English accent that won Lisbon over the first time Tommy had brought her home. "They're beautiful."  
"I think the mother of my niece deserves them," she said taking her hand. "Congratulations Libby. I'm so happy for you both."

"And about naming her after Mum and me," she started. "I don't know what to-"  
"You don't need to say anything," Elizabeth pressed. "You've always been there for us during this time. You bought me my first present for the baby. Tiny socks."

Teresa had been the first person Tommy and Elizabeth had called after they had done eight pregnancy tests (just in case the first seven were wrong). She had been so excited. She turned up with champagne (For Tommy and I, not you!) a copy of _What to Expect when You're Expecting_ and the socks.

Lisbon remembered the baby shower. She remembered standing in the kitchen helping Elizabeth and Tommy when Elizabeth said 'I think the baby has hiccups.'  
Tommy pressed his hand to her stomach then grabbed Teresa's hand and held it there so Teresa felt the freaky fish movements too.  
She had such a clear memory of their faces: eyes shining, flushed with the excitement and wonder of it all. They were lovely. They were her favourite couple.

She used to secretly watch Tommy listening to Elizabeth when she told a story: that tender, proud look he got on his face the way he laughed harder than anyone else when she said something funny.

He made Elizabeth feel more confident, funnier, smarter. He brought out all the good things that were there already and let her fully be herself so she seemed to shine with this inner light. He loved her so much he made her seem even more lovable. Lisbon adored it.

"Where is the little rascal, then?" Lisbon asked.  
"In the nursery," Tommy replied. He turned to Elizabeth. "You should get some sleep now, I'll go sort out the discharge forms."  
_Look at him_, Lisbon thought fondly and sadly, _making decisions and being responsible._

They convinced her to go down to the nursery and 'spend time' with Catherine. She didn't know exactly what that entailed. It was hard to entertain an infant. Surprisingly, Jane had not left from his spot and was waiting for her. "Coming?" she asked as she walked down the hall. He followed after her obediently.

The nursery was quiet and loud at the same time. Glass cribs with plastic cards reading the babies names were lined up in organised rows. Some were sleeping, whimpering softly, others crying gently and some cooing adorably to themselves wrapped up in blue or pink blankets.

A nurse with stunning green eyes that matched her hospital uniform stood at the end of the room with a clipboard. She smiled at them.

"Which one are you after?" she said softly.  
"Catherine Lisbon," Lisbon said feeling weird. She led them down the room and to a crib with a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket that was crying softly.

Before the nurse left, Lisbon commented on her green eyes and the nurse smiled and said they were coloured contacts.  
"Oh," Lisbon said, feeling duped.

Jane looked at her expectantly. Oh, she thought. She supposed to pick the baby up. Lisbon carefully put awkwardly lifted the baby into her arms. This made Catherine's gentle whining to explode into fully fledged tears that orchestrated the rest of the nursery to burst out into tears as well, like dogs howling.

"Shh," she said quickly to the baby. "Please stop."  
Jane looked pained with indecision. He so desperately wanted to tell Lisbon what to do and yet he was too selfishly afraid of getting hurt. Then Lisbon looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"You need to hold her against your chest more firmly," he told her. "The sound of your heartbeat will calm her."  
Lisbon tried this but the baby screamed louder at the movement.  
_Jesus_, she thought, _please shut up little Tommy. I'm not torturing you!_

Jane sighed and held out his arms. "Let me show you," he said.  
Lisbon placed Catherine carefully in his arms.  
"Careful of her head," Lisbon said quickly. "You have to support-"  
"I know," he said lightly nestling Catherine in to the crook of his elbow and she stopped howling immediately. "I have done this before, Teresa." 

_Oh shit_, Lisbon thought feeling the colour drain out of her face. She felt like slapping her forehead. _Of course, you stupid idiot! _She hadn't even considered the pain that this must be causing Jane. She felt terrible. It was almost as bad as what she felt in the elevator.

"Jane, I…I'm so sorry," she said quietly.  
"Don't be sorry," he said in a light forced tone. "Not everyone is good at babies."  
Lisbon knew that Jane knew that wasn't what she was apologising for.

She tried to imagine Jane before the CBI. She had just thought he had sprung in to being in his three piece suit.

It was so hard to imagine Jane, her pain-in-the-ass Jane, as a husband and a father. Just the sheer impossibility of it made her want to giggle…then cry at his loss.

She tried to imagine a beautiful woman by his side and a downy-haired baby in his arms. The mystery of his wife intrigued her. What was she like? Shy? Bubbly? Graceful? Clumsy? Jane must have adored her. She must have been amazing and slightly insane to lock her life with Patrick Jane's forever. Just five hours a day at CBI was more than enough Jane for her.

They had a child too. Fancy that, Jane as a _father_. What a responsibility. She wouldn't trust Jane with a fish. His wife must have been the sensible one. Then again, what sensible person would ever marry Patrick Jane? Or maybe he was different then. Happy. She longed to know. To know more about these two mysterious people who seemed to be the centre point of all that was Patrick Jane.

It would be so much easier to understand his unbearable bloodthirsty need for revenge if she knew who it was exactly he was fighting for.

But she never asked. She just had to hope that one day their friendship would be strong enough for him to tell her about them. And she would listen.

Lisbon looked back at Jane who was cradling the baby with such easy familiarity that her heart broke for him.

Maybe she wasn't the only one who needed fixing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thankyou for your kind reviews. As requested by **_**Chloe**_** I added another Lisbon flashback, though I'm not as happy with it as the other ones. Hope you enjoy...again, its quite long. Reviews are much appreciated. **

Rebecca Lisbon marched through the doors, her handbag swinging behind her and her heels making a _clop clop_ noise on the marble floor. Her husband, Jeremy, was several paces behind her. He actually had to restrain her from jumping out of the car before he had properly stopped it in a car park.

But Rebecca was fierce with worry and concern. A month ago she was a newlywed and now she was caregiver to her brother and sister in law. But she was not resentful of this fact. She loved those two kids. Tommy was the most sweetest adorable child. Teresa...well, Teresa had been difficult but Rebecca was certain that beneath that formidable surliness lurked a goodhearted young girl. She was sure because Teresa was very caring and maternal towards her brother.

That is why when Jeremy and Rebecca got home from their lawyers finalising guardianship papers, and got a message from the school about an issue with Teresa, Rebecca had flown to the car and kept squawking at Jeremy that he was going to slow when he was already 5km over the limit.

Rebecca marched, not greeting the artificially friendly receptionist and up to a man in a suit with a look of authority about him that just screamed_ 'SCHOOL PRINCIPAL!'. _

"You must be Teresa's sister in law," he said solemnly. "And brother," he added as Jeremy caught up.  
"Is she alright?" Rebecca asked, getting straight to the point.  
"Oh, yes, sorry. Physically, she's fine," he said. "Its just that we've had an incident."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "An _incident_?"  
"A bullying incident."  
"Someone is bullying Teresa?" Rebecca asked her eyebrows knitting together.

She would throttle the kid. She would demand to see the parents. Teresa had lost both her parents and was no doubt in so much pain already. She was going to have the brat for breakfast.

"Mrs Lisbon, it's Teresa who is the bully."  
Jeremy made an '_ah_' sound as if this made perfect sense.  
"Teresa wouldn't bully anyone," Rebecca told the man sure of herself.

She knew Teresa . Maybe she could be moody and a little, well, aggressive when she was riled. But her heart was in the right place. Look at the way she had helped Tommy with his timetables last week. Okay, Tommy said she was being annoying and it ended with Teresa stomping off in floods of tears.

"This isn't the first time we've had problems with Teresa," the principal said.  
"A little boy had to have dental surgery a few months ago after an altercation with Teresa."

An _altercation_? Rebecca's eyes widened.

"I know she is having problems with her loss and moving house, of course," the principal said quickly as if reassuring the pair that he did have a heart under that thousand dollar suit.  
"What exactly did she do?" Jeremy asked.

The principal took a deep breath and started talking quickly as if hearing it quicker would make it better.  
"Teresa threatened to stab Morgan Jones with a pair of scissors. She also cut off her hair and pushed her face in to a cake. I'm going to have to suspend her for a few weeks. I think she needs to see a counsellor."

"I see," Jeremy frowned.  
"There must be more to the story," Rebecca pressed. "She must have had a reason."  
"Can we see her?" Jeremy asked.

In his office, Teresa was sitting in a chair next to another little girl.  
The girl was crying uncontrollably and cradling something in her arms. Rebecca realised with horror that it was a long auburn plait.

She had bits of chocolate cake and cream and cherries smeared all over her freckled face and school dress and the shocking hacked off line of her auburn hair stuck up over the back collar of her uniform.  
_Jesus, Teresa! What have you done?_ Jeremy thought.

Teresa's face was white, her eyes shining with fury and her eyebrows were narrowed and her lips pressed in a tight line. She was sitting very still and straight with her hands balled up in fists on her lap. She reminded Rebecca of a little psychopathic killer brought into the police station for questioning.

The principal knelt down beside her.  
"Do you want to tell your brother what happened?" he asked in a gentle methodical voice.

Teresa shook her head passionately as if she were refusing to reveal state secrets to her tormentors.  
"She hasn't said a word," the principal sighed looking at Jeremy.

The little girl, Morgan, her eyes glazed with tears and fury dangled the blonde plait in front of Teresa's impassive face.  
"My mother is going to kill you, Teresa Lisbon. My hair is beautiful. You just did it because you're jealous and you haven't even said..." her voice quavered as if she was overcome with the atrocity of the truth. "You haven't even said _sorry_."

"Teresa, apologise to Morgan right now," Jeremy said angry.  
Teresa didn't stop looking ahead of her and said: "_Sorry_" in the most insincere tone is was bordering on sarcastic.

"She is not!" Morgan declared. "She's just saying that, wait til my parents gets here!"  
"Actually Teresa you can got home now," the principal said. "Teresa, I am suspending you from school for two weeks. You cant be a part of his school and behave like that, do you understand? This is not acceptable behvaiour."

Teresa nodded. Her face had now gone from white to flaming red. Rebecca tried to think of something that could make Teresa so angry as to want to impale a young child with scissors. She had a suspicion that Tommy was somehow involved in this _altercation_. At least Morgan's teeth were intact.

Jeremy walked beside Rebecca with his hands in his pockets as they approached their car waiting for Teresa to get her bag.  
"That was awful," Rebecca said leaning against the car door.  
" I feel like I cut off that child's hair myself. And the cake! She spent so long making that cake."

Rebecca had let Teresa say up til past ten last night to make a black forest cake for her Food from Different Cultures assignment.

"Poor little thing," she crooned.  
"Morgan?"  
"No, Teresa," Rebecca screwed up her nose. "Who cares about Morgan?"  
"She threatened to stab her with a pair of scissors," Jeremy said his eyes wide.  
"She's probably an awful, mean little girl," Rebecca said spitefully.  
She was so riled, Jeremy wasn't about to argue with her.

"Here comes our little thug," he said nodding towards the school gate.

Teresa was walking towards them, her school backpack held loosely in one hand so it was dragging along the gravel, her head hanging. It looked like she was off to an execution.

She glared up at them through the tresses of lank hair falling down on either side of her face. Rebecca itched to snip it off. Teresa would look so much prettier with short hair. Rebecca smiled twisted, that could be the perfect punishment. _'You cut her hair, kid so I'm going to cut yours!' _she could imagine herself saying brandishing a pair of scissors.

"So?" Teresa said meanly dropping her bag on the floor glaring at them. She was expecting the yelling, the disappointment, the punishments to gush from their mouths.

Rebecca looked at Teresa and felt her heart snap into pieces. She had known Teresa since her and Jeremy started dating in high school. Since Teresa was only a tiny little girl. It broke Rebecca's heart to see that little girl so miserable and aggressive.

"Come here," she said gently.  
Teresa stomped over to her, still staring at the ground and Rebecca gathered her in her arms in a hug.  
Teresa was shocked, she hadn't been hugged since...god knows. It felt surprisingly pleasant to have big, comforting, protective, adult arms around her.

"I promise, we're going to work this out," Rebecca said quietly.  
"You, Jeremy and I are going to sit on the beach, eat icecream and work out whatever the problem is."  
Teresa gave a tiny gasp of surprise and burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry Becky," she sobbed into Rebecca's stomach.  
It gave Rebecca a fright. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Teresa cry even though she had so much to cry about over the past few years, she never cried in front of Rebecca (and hadn't called her Becky since she was little).

There was such a horrible polite restraint in all their conversations recently with both of them putting on _oh-so-reasonable_ voices.  
It felt good to hear Teresa cry. It felt real. It had been a very long time since she needed her and that used to be such a big part of her identity, being the surrogate big sister.

Rebecca looked at Jeremy over Teresa's head.  
Jeremy rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers then looked at them and sighed. "Okay, but don't tell your brother you got to eat icecream on the beach or we'll have all the Lisbon children suspended from school."

Jane and Lisbon walked back to Elizabeth's room laughing about something but Lisbon's laughter cut off when she saw Jeremy hovering over Elizabeth's bed with Tommy.  
"Jeremy," she said with surprise and awkwardness.  
"Teresa," he nodded tersely but with a stilted, forced friendliness.

Teresa used to sometimes feel like there were unforgiveable words hovering on the tip of her tongue whenever she spoke to Jeremy. Things like:  
_"You think the world begins and ends with you and your perfect little family and your perfect little life and you think stress is trying to find the perfectly colour-coordinated cushions to match your curtains."_

She felt like writing those things down in her notepad and then tearing them up because they were horrible things to say and completely untrue (She had done that before in her office and Rigsby had looked at her weirdly through her window).

She didn't think those things at all but she could have said them and she still could and if she did, those words would be etched in their memories forever. So it was safer to say nothing and pretend that he didn't know she was pretending and she didn't know he was pretending and then they would forget how to be real with each other.

That's why when Matthew, her other brother who was on some sort of expedition in New Zealand, called her to say that Jeremy had moved out of home, it was shocking.  
She had no idea, no inkling that Jeremy and Rebecca were having troubles.

There was the indisputable evidence that they didn't share secrets anymore. She should have known what was going on his life and he should have called her straight and way for good sisterly advice. But he didn't. So she let him down as much as he let her down.

At that time, she wasn't sure what to do. Should she phone Rebecca? Should she drive straight over? Should she call and ask first? Should she phone Jeremy? She didn't know what they would want. She was worrying about the right etiquette as if this were people she didn't know very well.

How do you find the thread that started it all, and follow it all the way back through the tangles of phone calls and Christmases and kids birthday parties?

Teresa was a big believer in marriage. She thought people gave up on their relationships too easily. Marriage was an eternal thing. When she got married, she would solder that ring to her husbands finger.

She remembered a year after her mother died, Matthew had cut out the dating section of the newspaper and handed his father clippings of suitable women.

"Oh, I'm too old for that," he would say. "And besides, you only have one love your life and that was your mother. How could any woman measure up to her?"

And although her brothers had continually tried to convince him that he was still young and attractive and that Mum wouldn't have expected him to mourn her forever, Teresa was secretly proud of her fathers eternal devotion. It was sort of beautiful and moving.

Rebecca and Jeremy divorcing.  
Surely not. It was impossible.  
Jeremy's love for Rebecca was a fact. A _fact_.

Once when she was a teenager, Teresa teased Jeremy by making a whip cracking noise when he agreed to go to the opera with Rebecca. Jeremy had shrugged. "What can I do, Teresa? I love her more than oxygen."  
So what, the boy didn't oxygen anymore?

Jane looked between the man 'Jeremy' and Lisbon. Oh yes, there was definitely something weird there.  
Of course, they were related. Siblings probably. They all had the same dark hair and frown.

"Hey," Jeremy said to Jane.  
Jane smiled and waved. "Hi!"  
"How have you been, Teresa?" Jeremy said politely.  
"Fine," she said ambivalent. "You?"  
"Fine."

"So, how are the kids?" Lisbon asked, pretending in front of Jane that she was an active participant in her eldest brothers life. She didn't anymore speculation from him.

"They're great," he said. "When they're not being psychotic monsters."  
Jane laughed with Jeremy. Lisbon maybe too hard. She stopped, she didn't really get parent humour. Maybe they really were psychotic monsters and it wasn't funny.

"Well," Jeremy said turning back to Elizabeth. "I have an entire wardrobe of Rachael's old clothes so I'll swing by and drop them off tomorrow."

"Thankyou Jeremy, that would be fantastic," she said.  
Jane tried not to giggle like a schoolboy at how she said fantastic in her strange Scottish English accent. _Fin-tar-stik._ It was cute, especially since she still had that _just-had-a-baby _glow about her.  
"I'll walk you back to your car," Teresa offered. Another pleasantry for happy family's sake in front of Jane.

She hoped she wasn't making Jane feel weird by leaving him alone with Tommy and Elizabeth but he seemed to fit in all settings and situations.  
He just beamed good naturedly at the young couple.  
"So, is Teresa a friend of yours?" Elizabeth asked.  
"Part time boss, full time friend," Jane told her. "Patrick Jane."

Elizabeth and Tommy's eyes widened.  
"_The_ Jane?" Tommy asked looking at him with both admiration and fascination.  
Obviously, he was a topic of discussion in the Lisbon family.  
"Thomas!" Elizabeth whacked Tommy's arm lightly. "That nice, we never get to meet many of Teresa's friends. She speaks of you and Cho, Rigsby and...Van Pelt, was it?"

Jane nodded.  
"Oh!" Elizabeth said quickly sitting up in bed. "Tommy! Did you put the bassinet in the car? You know we cant take her home without it."  
"Oh, sorry," he said. "I'll go do it now."  
"I'll give you a hand," Jane said.

The two men walked from the hospital. Jane had been hanging to get Tommy alone. He seemed the easy to manipulate type, a push over. One of those good fellows. Eager to help.  
Just the man to squeeze information from.

"So what's the deal with your brother, Jeremy, the miserable one?" Jane asked chipping away at the Lisbon iceberg.  
More softening Tommy up for more pressing questions.  
Tommy was slightly taken aback at his forwardness.  
"Um," Tommy said. "He's getting a divorce."

Urh! Jane hated that word. Divorce. It was so ugly. He felt his lips purse together on the second syllable. _Dee-vorce._ It was so wrong. His parents divorced when he was a child. He remembered everything about it. He always told himself when he got married. He would never get a divorce. Never. Nope. Full stop. Case closed.

He once said to his wife that if they were ever having troubles in their marriage he would move heaven and earth to fix things.  
Riley couldn't take it seriously because heaven and earth wouldn't need to be moved; any troubles in their relationship could be fixed with a few hours in separate rooms, a hug in the hallway, a simple poke that meant 'lets stop fighting now' or him leaning over her and whispering while they watched their daughters Christmas nativity play "By the way I forgive you," and then her mouth would drop and she would turn to him "Excuse me, _I_ forgive _you_!"  
"Shh, both of you!" a woman said behind them like an angry schoolteacher and they were so overcome with giggles they had to leave the theatre. They had gotten into such terrible trouble afterwards from their daughter.

"Do they have any children?" Jane asked keeping his mind clear away from where it was heading again.  
"Yep," Tommy said. "They're in the middle of a custody battle, its pretty serious, you know?"

No, he didn't know. He had never had one of these custody battles.  
It sounded a bit like custard-y battle. He remembered coming home from work to find his wife and daughter flinging spoonfuls of sweet yellow custard at each other, laughing and shrieking and licking it off afterwards.

Jane guessed that the custody battle that Tommy spoke of wasn't nearly as much fun as that had been.  
"So..." Jane said as they lifted the bassinet from the boot of Tommy's car. "I've been dying to know...what was Lisbon, I mean Teresa, like as a child."

"Well," Tommy said thoughtfully strapping the bassinet into the backseat. "Teresa was just...Teresa," he said fondly with admiration.  
Teresa was just Teresa. Like that was a characteristic all of its own.

"I guess every since I can remember, Teresa was always been way too intense and feels everything too deeply. She thought things over way too intently and her anger management was an issue. She had serious rage problems."  
Jane nodded. He had bore witness to these rage problems.

"What else? She was accident prone. She ran through our French doors one Easter and had to have forty seven stitched. It was quite traumatic, lots of blood. Matthew called an ambulance and I fainted. I didn't know that five year olds could faint, but there you go.

"Um, she liked to cook. After mum died, she used to invent her own recipes, they were quite good too except she was a bit of a prima donna about her cooking. If the recipe didn't turn out exactly like the picture, she would cry. Once, I saw her throw a triple layer cheesecake she spent four hours decorating in the bin and Dad went ballistic at her. I suppose I don't blame him. We had to go on a special shopping trip and everything to get exactly the right ingredients for that cake."

Jane thought this through, amazed. It was hard to imagine Lisbon before the gun and badge. Before it had been Agent Lisbon it had just been Teresa Lisbon. She was a child. A child that ran through glass doors and threw cakes in bins and made her father 'ballistic!'  
She was intriguing. But this didn't solve the mystery.

Well, whatever it was, Jane was going to find out.  
Clearly, she had a lot on her plate.

Her baby brother now had a family and didn't need her.  
She felt dreadfully guilty about something.  
Her brother was in the middle of a nasty custard throwing divorce.  
And either she was morbidly terrified of elevators or all this had caused her to break down and little miss tough Agent had felt the awful feeling of being human.

He would fix things. He would find out the problem and fix it. Eliminate it from her life.  
They would have dinner. And then dessert.  
And then they would talk and he would find out the inner workings of her mind.  
And he would fix things.

**:) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for your reviews. I really do appreciate them. **

"Well that was very interesting," Jane said, his hands in his pockets as they strode out from the hospital.  
Gray clouds had obscured the pleasant blue California sky and there was a slight chill to the wind outside.

Lisbon didn't know what to say to his statement. Interesting was one way to put it.  
"Hmmm," is all she could say in response but it seemed enough for him as he got his car keys out of his pocket and spun them around in circles on his pinky finger.

He turned to her casually as they entered the parking lot.  
"So, are we taking my car or yours?"  
"What?" she said confused, her head already in various places.

"You invited me to dinner, remember?" he said.  
"No, I didn't."  
"Well, you should," Jane said throwing his keys and catching them in this palm. "I think I deserve it after all those cases I've closed for you."

Lisbon half smiled apologetically and he already knew what she would say.  
"Sorry, I'm busy tonight."  
_With a bottle of wine and hours and hours of glorious trashy T.V shows to wash away this embarrassing day_, she thought already imaging the comforting feel of her fluffy slippers enveloping her feet. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head at the thought.

Jane shrugged. "Next time."  
Lisbon was surprised at his lack of prodding into her plans for the evening. But she wasn't about to argue at his sudden disinterest in her private life. He knew too much already.  
He gave her a friendly clap on the back and turned towards his car. "See ya tomorrow."  
Lisbon turned towards the black SUV with an exhausted sigh and rummaged in her pocket.

She spun around in the direction of Jane's car and roared angrily.  
"Jane!" she yelled. "Where are my god damn keys?"

His head poked up innocently from behind his car.  
"I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about, dear Lisbon."

She narrowed her eyes at him menacingly.  
The gray clouds gave a low rumble and it started to rain lightly.

Lisbon got out her phone to call Cho and get him to drop off his set of keys.  
She pressed the power button down and was greeted by nothing but a black screen.  
Her battery was dead. Damn it!

"Surrrre, you don't want to grab some dinner?" Jane said in his car pulling up beside her, smiling as if he had already won the battle.

Lisbon looked around hopefully as if Cho was blessed with telepathy and was going to materialise out of thin air with a spare set of keys dangling in his hand so she could go home and be in her slippers on her couch with the remote. But he wasn't. She was just getting wet and cold and grumpy.

"Oh, fine!" she said angrily stomping over to his car. This day was ruined anyway so she may as well.  
She slammed the door shut and put her seatbelt on.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she told him crossing her arms and looking at the rain running down the window. She knew it was childish and irrational to blame Jane. He didn't control the weather or was the one who forgot to charge her phone. But she could still be grumpy if she wished.

"You can keep convincing yourself that you hate me to hide your true feelings that I'm the closest thing you've ever had to a best friend," Jane smiled.  
Lisbon made a disparaging noise in the back of her throat.

"Maybe I should rephrase that," Jane said. "You're the closest thing I've ever had to a best friend."  
Lisbon defrosted a little at this comment. A little.  
"Well, I must be to let you drive me around in this beat up Citroen."

Jane was surprised that she knew the name of the car.  
"You know cars?"  
Lisbon smiled.

Before her mother had died, Lisbon was one of those girls who was deliberately ignorant about cars. She described them by size and colour. A big red car. A small blue car. Until she was influenced by her brothers.

Now she knew them by makes and models. She watches the Grand Prix and sometimes even flicks through car magazines at the office.  
"I know some."

It was then she noticed that Jane wasn't driving towards the main hub of restaurants and cafes. He was in a completely different direction.  
"Where are we going?" she asked.  
"I just need to go home and feed the cats," he told her, being nice enough to abide by the speed limit knowing how terrified she got when he drove at his usual velocity.

"You have cats?" she asked raising her eyebrow. Lisbon remembered Jane telling her a few weeks ago how much he detested the animals.  
"No, my neighbour has cats," Jane answered. "But she's visiting her grandchildren interstate and asked me to feed them while she's gone."  
"And you being the saintly civilian you are said yes?"  
Jane chuckled softly. "That's right."

Lisbon listened to the radio for a while not really in the mood for discussion and thankfully, Jane didn't seem to be either. She liked that they had established a partnership where there where no awkward silences and they were free to ponder and brood without being uncomfortable and have to start pointless conversations.

Lisbon had a sudden craving for television. House was on.  
She needed to see Dr House being nasty and sarcastic while he diagnosed impossible medical conditions.

What would Dr House say about her? She wished her shrink were more like House. Her's was so so polite and nice. It was annoying. Niceness doesn't cure anyone. Why doesn't he just bring her face to face with a few home truths?  
"You're miserable. Get over it!" House would sneer brandishing his cane.

Jane was driving behind a car load of teenagers that were going a bit fast for Lisbon's professional liking but she wasn't really in the mood to be Agent Lisbon. At the moment, she was just Teresa.  
And Teresa wanted to continue staring out the rain streaked window, dreaming about running off with Dr. Chase.

Lisbon noticed that the street was lined with leafy liquidambars that were swaying in the breeze. The car ahead put on its right indicator to turn into the next street.

A momentous feeling of panic exploded in her chest. A scream of horror was lodged in her throat. If she let it out, it would be very embarrassing.  
Her heart palpitated as if she'd woken up with a nightmare, something grabbed her throat and squeezed, pure fear rammed her hard against her seat. The fat red leaves of the liquidambars trembled in the sunlight.

She went to reach for Jane to touch his arm to let him know she might be dying but she couldn't move.  
Patrick braked and looked left and right to turn onto the same street.

Lisbon was practically having a heart attack and Jane didn't even realise.  
They turned the corner and Lisbon's heart began to slow. She could breathe again. She made a whooshing sound of relief as air filled her lungs once more and her steel grip on her seat relaxed.  
Jane glanced over. "You okay?"  
She nodded, her face pale and her eyes wide.

Luckily, Jane's house was only a few seconds up the winding hills.

Lisbon had to admit, his house was beautiful. There was beautiful leafy trees and trellises covered in lovely winding vines. Rose bushes lined the footpath up to the front door. They both got out of the car which Jane parked on the curb.

Lisbon watched him walk up the footpath not sure whether to follow him or stay put.  
Jane opened the front door without unlocking it. There was no reason to lock his house anymore.

He walked inside and ditched his car keys on the table before poking his head out the door.  
"You coming?" he asked Lisbon who was standing awkwardly by the car.

Lisbon followed quickly and went inside. She looked around the room curiously but as subtly as possible. She was curious about Jane's reclusive house.

Lisbon was taken aback to see mountains of unopened mail on the table by the door and when she stepped further into his house she noticed there was no furniture at all.  
Completely empty.

She heard Jane come downstairs.  
"Got the key," he said holding up it up. "I'll be right back."  
She wasn't sure whether that was a reassurance or a warning.

Either way, when he was safely down the path she thought she'd been Jane-ish and snoop around. Its not like he drew any boundaries when it came to poking his nose into her private life.

Lisbon noticed a closet by the front door. That must be the cloak room. Surely it would be nothing too awful if she were to just look while hanging her coat up.

She opened it and saw that it too was empty except for a single garment hanging on the rack.  
Lisbon took it off the hanger and held it up.

It was a long white coat. The type a doctor or a scientist would wear.  
Her finger traced over the top pocket where it had _R Jane_ stitched in cursive writing.  
She hung it back up carefully and closed the door. Lisbon peeked out the window.

He wouldn't have finished feeding them by now. She could look upstairs.

She could been looking for the bathroom. Lisbon knew trying to justify herself wouldn't make her feel any less guilty.

Lisbon, feeling like a naughty child, went upstairs hesitantly and was met with a dull empty hallway. She brushed her palm against the wall were there were large square shadows where pictures had clearly once hung.  
She opened the door on the left and was surprised.

The next room was more welcoming. She had to push through the beads hanging from the doorway. The walls were a soft pale pink and the evening sunshine from the window poured into the room illuminating it with a warm glow.

Fairy wings hung from a hook on the wall above a bed filled with dozens of stuffed animals.  
There were tiny glass ornaments shaped like cupcakes, , a mirror with stickers and photos stuck on it, a desk, hair clips and ribbons, a music box, glittery bangles and long beads. There was a little table by the corner with a pot and tea cups all set out with dolls sitting in the chairs.

Everything seemed so neat and organised except for a small clutter on the desk. Lisbon went over to investigate, her detective curiosity tingling.

The clutter was a big pink piece of card folded in half with a glue stick, scissors, crayons and a vial of glitter that was lying on its side spilling the pink glittery contents across the paper. Lisbon picked up the piece of folded card, dusting the glitter from its surface.

It was a handmade card with glitter stuck to the front and a stick drawing of a woman with green spots on her cheeks and her hands over her round stomach with a turned down mouth and band aid on her forehead.

She opened it and read:  
'_Dear darling Mummy and Baby, get well soon, I hope your tummy feels better. Love from Emily_.'

It was written clumsily and in various coloured crayons.  
The only way Lisbon had been able to translate it was because of the small white slip of paper on the desk that had the same words written in what she recognised as Jane's neat handwriting.

There was another stick drawing opposite the writing with a man with curly yellow hair and the same stick lady from the front of the card smiling and both holding hands with a carefully drawn picture of a small girl with the same yellow hair under a rainbow. She hadn't finished colouring the purple of her mothers dress.

The same purple crayon lay neglected on the desk right next to the card and the tipped over vial of glitter.

Lisbon dropped the card and suddenly felt sick.

The sickly scent of strawberry lip gloss and feeling of nausea unsettled her stomach.

Fresh air. She definitely needed fresh air.  
She left the room, shutting the door behind her and went down the stairs quickly unable to get rid of the cold ice that had taken residence in her bones.

The front door opened as soon as Lisbon made it back to where she had been standing. She tried to keep the horrified expression off of her face.

"Stupid cat got me!" Jane said cheerfully holding up his arm where there were two deep scratches. "That Lyle is vicious."  
Lisbon tried to smile but it came out as a grimace.

"You okay, Lisbon?" Jane asked, his cheerful face turning concerned.  
"Just hungry," she said hoping her voice was convincing enough. "Weren't we going out to dinner?"  
"Yes, we were," Jane said opening the door for her. "I wont keep the lady from her dinner."

Lisbon buckled her seatbelt and waited for Jane to start the car. Her mind was racing.  
How could he act so damn cheerful? It was obvious the guy was messed up. How could he not be?  
That was it!  
She was considering telling him about her mother over dinner tonight.

Nope. Not now, buddy.  
If he wanted to get the inside scoop on her dilemma's, he was going to have to come clean with her about everything that he had bottled up in that blonde haired head of his.

Lisbon was not going to let this drop. How dare he pretend to be happy with her when he was clearly in agony? She had thought their friendship had meant more to him than having to pretend to be all cheerful. They were friends. He was supposed to lean on her and confide in her. Not pretending.

Then she realised with a sudden jolt that was exactly how she had been with him too. Pretending and tip toeing around each others emotions.  
Well not after tonight, she decided.

Tonight they were both going to sit and discuss and sort out everything.  
Tonight they would both drop that ridiculous façade and become real with each other.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to everyone for their reviews and favourite story alerts. They make my day!**

"Your very quiet tonight," Jane commented while they were finishing up eating dinner.  
"Hmmm?" Lisbon said distracted as she picked at her salad morosely. "Oh, I guess its just been a long day."

"I know, you're an aunt!" Jane said happily. "Isn't that exciting?"  
Lisbon shrugged. "I've been an aunt for nearly ten years now. The role isn't nearly as exciting as it sounds."  
"Oh," Jane said. "Don't you see them often?"

"I used to see the children all the time when they were little," Lisbon said smiling nostalgically."I adored them. I still do adore them, of course. Its just that they've got so busy. They both have swimming lessons. Tom has soccer and Rachael has hockey. And the birthday parties! They're always going to someone's birthday party. They have such amazing social lives. I remember when they were little I always knew exactly the right thing to get them for their birthdays. They'd rip off the paper in a frenzy. Now I have to ring Rebecca so she can tell me exactly what they want and where to get it. Then she makes the children send me a thank you card. _Dear Auntie Teresa. Thank you so much for my blah blah blah…."_

"A thank you card?" Jane smiled at the innocent gesture that Lisbon seemed to find offending.

"Yes, I know, I know," Lisbon sighed. "Its teaching them good manners and everything but I sort of hate those thank you cards. I always imagine the kids groaning and moaning and having to be forced into writing them. It makes me feel like a horrible elderly aunt."

"Oh," Jane said. "Sorry."  
"No," Lisbon sighed rubbing her forehead. "I can't believe I'm complaining about thank you cards! I've become a bitter old hag. Have you noticed?"  
"No, of course you haven't."

Lisbon smiled sadly at his pathetic attempts to cheer her up.

"What are they like? Your niece and nephew?" Jane enquired. They obviously meant a lot to her.  
Lisbon reached for her purse and took out a small wallet-sized photograph, her finger trailing the image lovingly.  
The only time Jane had seen that expression on Lisbon's face was when she was biting into a chocolate bar.

"My nephew, Harry, is the youngest," she started. "He's smart and surprisingly witty at times. He's a suspicious kid and you can't put anything over him. He goes and checks it up on the internet. He gets obsessed over things and learns everything there is to know about them. It was the solar system for a while. And then dinosaurs. I don't know what he's into at the moment. He does really well at school. He gets all kinds of awards and he's class captain. That sort of thing."

Jane smiled at Lisbon's pride for her overachieving nephew. "That's good."  
"It's a relief after Rachael," she said frowning a little.  
Jane looked at her enquiringly.

"Well, its just that Rachael has been having problems at school," Lisbon explained. ""Behavioural problems" they call it. I think its about the divorce…." she trailed off sadly.

Lisbon looked back down at her photograph and was filled with elation at her niece and nephew. They were amazing. Why weren't Rebecca and Jeremy overcome with joy every time they looked at those kids. Why in the world were they getting a divorce?

She handed the small snapshot to Jane over the table so he could see for himself why a divorce was such a horrendous concept when it came to those two adorable children. Anybody who laid eyes on those kids would understand Lisbon's point.

"Jeremy and Rebecca are fighting for custody of the children. Jem wants them half the time. We don't know how he thinks he can do it when he works such long hours and is flying about the place all the time. Rebecca's always been their 'primary caregiver' as they say. But its got – well, its all turned so nasty. I guess that's just the nature of divorce."

Jane looked down at the small photograph in his hand while she spoke.

It was a photo of two children in their school uniforms. It was obviously a posed shot because they were sitting in a row on a step with their elbows on their knees and their chin in their hands.

The boy, Harry, was on the left. He had white-blonde messy hair, ears that stuck out in a cute way and a turned up nose sprinkled with freckles. He had tipped his head to the side and clenched his teeth together in a grotesque grimace that Patrick took as a smile.

On the boy's right was a girl who looked older. She was stolid with a long face, straight brown hair in a ponytail that was over one shoulder. She was slumped forward in a way that clearly told him that she didn't want to be there. "Cho-like" was the description that sprung into Jane's head.  
Her mouth was pressed in a straight line and she had a graze on her knee and her shoelaces were undone. Jane thought she looked like a little grumpy Lisbon.

"They're cute kids," he said handing back the photo and Lisbon slipped it back inside its cover in her purse.  
"They are," she said fondly. "They don't deserve what's happening. I've never seen Rachael so miserable. She used to be so bright and happy and now she's just moody and miserable and aggressive all the time. _A little Teresa_, Matthew always says."

"A little Teresa?" Jane said his eyebrow raised as they both stood up from the table. "I never imagined you the moody, miserable, aggressive type."  
Lisbon shrugged into her jacket to protect herself from the chilly night.  
They ended up getting icecream cones from a stall and took a walk around the park.

"What exactly did you imagine me as?" Lisbon asked, curious for Jane's take.

Jane shrugged. "I don't know, maybe an intense, teary teenager who liked vintage dresses that cost more to dry clean that what you actually paid for them? A perfectionist and overachiever who was reserved, behaved and approval seeking?"

Lisbon laughed a little. "Not quite."  
"Okay then, Mother Teresa," Jane said pointing his cone at her. "What was the worst thing you ever did as a child?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?"  
"Only if you answer them honestly."  
"If I do, will you answer my questions honestly?" she countered.  
"To an extent," he said ambiguously.

Lisbon figured this was the best deal she would get out of the Jane vault of secrecy.  
"Okay, the worst thing…." she thought as she licked her icecream. "Probably when I was suspended for cutting off Morgan Jones' hair, threatening to stab her with scissors and shoving her face in a cake."  
His eyes popped open in shock.

"What? Why?"  
"She teased Tommy," she said simply. "She told him she had a face like a pig and then her and her stupid friends were laughing about it in cooking class _right in front of me_!"  
"I never knew you had such a temper as a child, Lisbon," Jane said still slightly shocked.

"I got this feeling," she explained looking angry like she still harbored bad feelings towards this Morgan Jones.  
"A feeling like my head was going to explode. She was standing in front of me and I got out my scissors for art and I cut off her plait. I just went _snip_! And it fell straight to the ground. And then when she turned around I threw my cake at her. It wrecked the cake. Nobody even got to taste it. It was the best cake I EVER MADE!"

Jane tried not to laugh at how childish Lisbon looked when she said that. She looked like she was eleven again.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Jane said touching his hair.  
Lisbon laughed and then they were suddenly giggling like school children. They laughed and laughed. It was so strange, laughing like that with Jane. It was like tasting something delicious that she hadn't eaten in years. She had forgotten that drunken, euphoric feeling of being rocked with laughter. She cried proper tears when she laughed hard enough. It was a family trait she and Matthew had inherited from their father. How funny, she had forgotten that too.

"Did you really threaten to stab her with scissors?" Jane asked later as Lisbon wiped the moisture from her eyes.

"No," Lisbon said her fist clenching in fury but the leftover laughter was still dancing in her voice.  
"She just said that to get me into more trouble. I thought Jeremy and Rebecca would be furious. Rebecca was nice about it though. We went to the beach and ate icecream and I told her what she said and she listened. It was nice to have someone listen," she said thoughtfully staring at her icecream.

Jane let her have a few moments down memory lane before he brought her back.  
"So…" Jane said. "Did Tommy ever find out that you stuck up for him?"  
Lisbon shook her head. "No way, buddy. You've asked enough questions, now its my turn."

Jane sighed and Lisbon smiled triumphantly.  
"Can you go easy on me?" he asked weakly. "Ask me a basic, generic question just to warm me up for the ones I know you're bottling up in there."  
"Okay," Lisbon agreed racking her brain for a non-intrusive, basic question. It wasn't like _what was the worst thing you ever did as a child? _was a very personal question.

"Hmmm," Lisbon hummed thoughtfully eating more icecream. She would start with happy, humourous questions and get down to the nitty gritty angsty stuff later on. She referred back to her previous first dates and the innocent questions she would ask when awkward silences presented themselves (_So, what do you like to do on weekends?). _

"I dunno, um…tell me a happy memory of yours," she said taking a lick of icecream. Lisbon was curious about what childhood memories he had. Growing up in a carnival must have been tremendous fun. Cotton candy and Ferris wheels and flashing lights.  
"Lisbon.."  
"Come on," she said. "What's the first thing that comes into your head?"

"Um. God. I don't know. I suppose when my daughter was born."  
Lisbon froze. She didn't mean to force that stuff out of him quite so early.  
"Is that too obvious an answer? Although not the actual birth. I didn't like the actual birth."

"Didn't you?" Lisbon asked disappointed. She had imagined childbirth as the expecting parents sobbing and laughing and holding each other while a movie soundtrack played in the background. "Why not?"

"I guess I was in a crazy panic the whole time, and I couldn't control anything and I couldn't help her. I kept doing the wrong thing."  
"I'm sure you didn't," Lisbon assured unable to imagine a situation that Jane couldn't handle.

"There was so much blood and she was screaming and when they had to do the emergency caesarean, I thought I was going to have a heart attack."  
"How horrible for you," Lisbon said though she guessed it hadn't exactly been a bucket of laughs for his wife either.

Jane smiled and shook his head in wonder. "I remember I didn't want to distract them from her and the baby like some guy in a movie who faints so I thought, I'll just die discreetly in the waiting room. I thought she was going to die too and the baby was going to be an orphan….I don't think I've ever told anyone that."

"I thought we were talking happy memories," she said. It felt like all that blood and screaming was ahead of her in her future, still to be endured.

"The happy part was when it was all over and quiet and I got to hold my daughter for the first time. Then when my wife woke up and the doctors left us alone with the baby, we could talk about which doctors and nurses we hated and have a cup of tea and just look at the baby for the first time. Count her tiny fingers and argue about names. That was magic."

He was silent for a few moments. Lisbon was touched nearly to tears that he had shared these special, intimate memories with her. She didn't notice the neglected icecream that was dripping down her cone to her wrist.  
"So," he said cheerfully as if the last minute hadn't happened. "Answered honestly enough to your satisfaction?"

And there were his walls firmly back in place again. But Lisbon was determined to dig a tunnel or build a door or take a jackhammer to them or something. He couldn't just leave things like that, not when she had gotten her first peep at the real Jane.

They both got into his car and Lisbon stared at the dark sky through the window.  
"Now," Jane said turning on the ignition. "Your turn."

Lisbon groaned. He was going to make her pay.  
"Tell me…a sad memory."  
"A sad memory?" she said skeptically.  
"Yes. Anything that's made you feel sad or lonely or guilty."

"You can drop your little beat-around-the-bush crap, Jane," Lisbon said. "You want to know why I was crying in the elevator."  
"You don't have to-"  
"Come on, Jane," she said. "Its been on the tip of your tongue all afternoon. I know that's why you were hanging around at the hospital, why you mysteriously disappeared with Tommy and why I am here in your car right now. So I might as well clear it up now so I'm not dodging you at the office all week."

Jane just stayed silent and fixed his eyes on the road ahead of him. Lisbon took a deep breath, mustering up the courage and energy to do what she hadn't done in over twenty years.

"My mother died when I was nine," she told him. "A car accident."  
Lisbon waited for him to insert a little Jane-ism or comment to boost her confidence to continue but he remained silent so she proceeded.

"I can remember the day so clearly," Lisbon said looking out the window. "It was August and it was windy and raining. It was summer, it should have been sunny and warm but it wasn't. I got picked up from school by my dad because I was complaining about my jaw hurting. He thought I was making it up to get out of school but I promised I wasn't but I can't remember if that was the truth or not now. I got a pink toothbrush from the dentist and dad was rushing to the hospital because he didn't want to miss his and mum's appointment. She was pregnant with a baby girl. I only found out after she…" Lisbon's voice shook and she was certain that she wasn't going to be able to go on.

Jane still didn't press her to continue but she managed.  
"Usually, my parents would have taken the same car and gone out for lunch after their appointment but they had me and mum thought I should go home and rest. She believed me and didn't think I was making it up. I drove with my dad because I thought my mum played her music too loud and it always gave me a headache. It was Elvis. Always Elvis. There were these huge beautiful trees that went along the street and they were swaying because of the wind. It shouldn't have been windy in August. It was so lovely every other day that month.  
I saw my mum put on her indicator to turn the corner and one of the trees….one of the trees fell….and…and she…"

Lisbon only then noticed her fists balled up in her lap and tears running silently down her face.  
A few minutes past and the streetlights casually threw beams of yellow light across them at regular intervals. Lisbon was painfully aware of the uncomfortable lump lodged in her throat. She knew if she spoke nothing would come out but incomprehensible blubbering so she let Jane break the silence.

"You blame yourself for what happened," Jane said sadly. It wasn't a question.  
"She would be 25 now," Lisbon said quietly. "My sister would be…..should be."

Jane paused trying to put his thoughts into words.  
"Lisbon, there is nothing you could have done to prevent what happened," he said it with such assurance and such finality that Lisbon felt comfort in his words. Comfort, she felt she didn't deserve. She wanted the blame and the guilt. It reminded her she was an actual person with actual emotions. Not just some unemotional impassive stone that her team thought she was. That was her life: work, misery, television. If there was a power failure and California became safe from crime, she would cease to be. She wanted the blame and the guilt. She needed it. Not Jane and his reassuring words of forgiveness.

"My family fell apart, Jane. Tommy grew up without a mother. And my sister's life ended before she even had the chance to live it," Lisbon said her voice quivering. "All because I was a stupid, selfish drama queen. All because of a FUCKING TOOTHACHE!"

She shouted the last part and Lisbon wasn't one to usually swear but it just seemed fitting. It didn't sound nearly as passionate without it. Jane was still impassive, staring ahead and concentrating at the road.  
"Don't say that," he said simply.

Lisbon took a deep breath to steady herself. Her voice was still shaking, raw with emotion and pent up anger that had finally been released.

"Jeremy and Matthew put the puzzle together," Lisbon said. "They blamed me a little. Even dad resented me subconsciously. They all pretended not to but it was obvious. Then when he died, Jeremy was newly married and thought he had finally gotten out of the hellish reality that was our family, starting to live his own life and all and then BOOM! Him and Rebecca because our guardians. And I didn't exactly make that easy for them. Tommy was too young to understand what happened. Just a car accident, he thinks."

"So he should. That's all it was," Jane said softly. "A car accident."  
"No its not, Jane," Lisbon said. "He never found out exactly what happened because I wanted at least one Lisbon family member to not resent me. He still doesn't know. He said that I was a good big sister, he looked up to me and admired me all the time. He named his freaking baby after me. He would hate me if he ever found out."

"You know that's not true," Jane said. "The only person who blames you in all of this is yourself, Lisbon. You need to let it go. There was no way you could have known what was going to happen. It wasn't your fault."

_That's rich coming from you_, Lisbon wanted to say among other things but she bit her tongue hard until she tasted the salty taste of blood. It was a good distraction from crying.

"I still have nightmares about it. About Tommy finding out and blaming me. God, this is so embarrassing," Lisbon said wiping the tears from her eyes. "I shouldn't even be telling you this. You going to think I'm even more crazy."  
"I don't think your crazy Lisbon," Jane said softly.

It was true. Jane didn't think she was crazy, not at all. He had nightmares too. He wanted to tell her that his nightmares were of screams of agony, cries of his name and blood. So much blood. Jane wanted to tell her that he buried his face into his wife's work coat and let the scent of vanilla, mandarin and roses infiltrate his mind and wash away his unpleasant dreams. However there was a price to pay for this luxury. Somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, he would mistaken the delicious smell as the scent of her hair and his arm would automatically curl to wrap her up in an embrace. Then he would be jolted back into reality when his arms would close around nothingness. Tears would well up in his eyes and the mocking face above him would laugh. He would repeatedly punch his pillow in unbearable anger before he exhausted himself back to his nightmares.

But he couldn't. He wished he could. Lisbon had opened up to him and all he wanted was to be able to do the same. Lisbon was kind and goodhearted. She didn't belong in his world of agony and despair and heart wrenching guilt. Jane didn't want to drag her into that dark abyss.

He turned into the hospital car park. Lisbon felt like it had been an eternity since she had driven in here this afternoon.  
"Can I ask you one last question?" she asked her hand on the door handle.  
"Of course," Jane said.  
"What were you really doing at the hospital?"

"Picking up my prescription," Jane said. "I told you that."  
"Liar," Lisbon smiled. "The chemist is on the first floor and you were waiting for the elevator."  
"What?" Jane said innocently. "I cant be checking up on a friend?"  
"I guess I should be angry but I'm not," Lisbon sighed.  
"How did you know I was talking about you?" Jane countered.  
Lisbon laughed and got out of the car.

"Lisbon?" Jane said through the open window.  
"Yes?" she said turning back.  
"Sweet dreams, Lisbon" he said smiling before driving off.

Lisbon smiled and walked over to the SUV. She rummaged in her pocket and as she expected they would be, her keys were safely there as if they had never gone missing. There was something else too when she pulled out her keys.  
A tiny paper frog.

"You too, Jane," she whispered to herself.


End file.
